


Broken Apart, Glued Together

by TriplePirouette



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: During-ep, F/M, post-ep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-15
Updated: 2012-10-15
Packaged: 2017-11-16 09:26:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/537963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriplePirouette/pseuds/TriplePirouette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because I seemed to have watched a different episode than most people, or at least understood it a little differently, here's what I think is going on. Each section is a Rumbelle missing scene from 2x01, Broken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Zippered

1\. Zippered

 

He stood on the other side of the curtain, facing into his shop. He was not listening to her rustle around in his back room, not listening to the sounds of her moving, of the quiet slip of her jacket as she took it off or the bounce of those horrid shoes as they hit the floor. He was staring at his shop. Giving her privacy. Looking for sparkles of magic within items. Waiting to put his dagger back.

 

He smirked. She would be mad, but he'd kept his word. He would not kill Regina, the wraith would. His hands would be clean and Regina would no longer be a nuisance. The suffering she put Belle through made his blood boil, made his gut churn. Regina deserved every second of pain that was returned to her, if not more.

 

But his Belle, oh, he had his Belle back and if it meant changing his plans, twisting a few words, keeping his own hands clean and outsourcing a few jobs here and there, he would do it.

 

He'd always hoped for a chance of redemption with Bae but he had never imagined he might get a chance to say what he wanted to Belle. The very fact that he had the chance to tell her, to try to show her that she'd been right, soothed the boiling anger in him.

 

“Rum?” Belle's hand snuck through the curtain to land softly on his shoulder.

 

He peaked back, a smile slipping over his lips at the sight of her. “Yes, sweetheart?”

 

She bit her lower lip, shrugging her shoulders lightly as she stepped between the curtains, eyes downcast and the dress he'd gotten for her in her hands. “I um-” She giggled, but it was sad and frustrated instead of light and happy as she looked down at her bare feet.

 

She only wore the thin smock dress from the hospital, something he never wished to see her in again. He lifted his hands to hers, clasping for a moment before he tilted her face back to his with a knuckle under her chin. “What is it? Don't you like it? I can find another...”

 

She shook her head quickly. “Oh, no, it's lovely!” She smiled, a blush rising. “I just don't know how to put it on. It doesn't fit over my head, and there are no laces.” Her words slipped to a whisper, her embarrassment clear.

 

He leaned forward, his hand running over the back of her head and pressing a kiss to her forehead as he tried to hide a grimace. Her manner, her embarrassment was adorable. It reminded him of her softest smiles and her sweet humility and all the tiny things he had fallen in love with in the Dark Castle. But she didn't know how to use the zipper. It was hidden, but still plain, and the fact that Belle was holding it to him and had no idea how to use it troubled him even more. Did she have any modern knowledge? Did she know anything about this world they were in? How could he trust her to get by, day by day, when faced with cars and phones and zippers?

 

“The zipper?” He pulled back and showed her, lifting the back of the dress and pulling the delicate zip down for her to see. He didn't speak down to her, didn't give her oversimplified instructions, just slid it all the way down and held the dress out to her. Belle was a proud woman, and for her to admit that she didn't understand this, a simple thing in a very complicated world around her, must have a cost her at least a little. It made him glad he'd already sent the wraith, that he'd never promised to not hurt Regina at all.

 

Belle cleared her throat, a soft thanks slipping past her lips as she took the dress back, her fingers toying with the tiny zipper pull. She looked so sad, so small, and he had the urge to protect her from everything. He knew he couldn't, that it would cause her to wilt and it would be just as bad as Regina locking her up, but he wanted to bring her to his home and keep her there like a treasure on his shelf. He wanted to dress her in the best clothing, bathe her in the most ostentatious jewels, hold her precious and his and keep her safe from this new, scary world, but he couldn't. He couldn't.

 

He did have her, though, here, in his shop, in his life and there were things that he could do. A smirk slipped to the side of his lips as he leaned toward her. “I can help you zip it up if you like?”

 

Belle's smile turned genuine as she looked up at him, the demure princess back and a little teasing bringing life to her eyes. Her nose scrunched up as she slipped back into the curtains. “I think I can manage.” She disappeared, his soul just a bit lighter for her smile as he watched her shadow. “Though some tea would be nice. Do you have tea?”

 

“Tea,” he said, his heart in his throat at all that he was still trying to process. He couldn't remember the last time he shared tea with anyone, in Storybrooke or in his old life. The last time he'd taken tea with someone else, he'd taken it with her. It choked him up and he shuttered a sigh back.“Yes, I can do that. Tea for two.”  


	2. Walking With Wraiths

  1. Walking With Wraiths




 

Belle couldn't see where she was going through the tears she finally let herself shed, the cracks in the sidewalk making the tall shoes she was wearing wobble. She stopped on a corner, looking around. The streets were deserted, dark, the lights flickered and the trees swayed perilously. She wrapped her arms tighter around herself. She wound't have run if she had been thinking: she didn't have anywhere to go and she didn't know anything about this world.

 

She'd had 28 years with no thoughts, no dreams, just confusion and loss at the pit of emotions she didn't understand that she lived with day after day. She didn't even recall feeling like she had a name, or a family. She just had that cell and the tiny window and occasionally those scary, cruel eyes that looked at her.

 

When she was released by the brown haired man she'd scampered through the streets, looking frantically until she'd found the shop. She hadn't known him, hadn't remembered, but she felt recognition. Even without a name or a memory of him, she knew he'd keep her safe. That feeling was the only thing that led her into the forrest with him. And then she remembered.

 

Belle remembered their kiss, and his yelling, and the chipped cup, and leaving him. She remembered that she'd been taken before she had even decided if she was going to truly leave him or if she wanted to go back. She remembered the horrible dungeon that the Queen had left her in, no better than the one Rumpelstiltskin had put her in as a joke. The Queen, however, had been serious. The Queen didn't let her out a few hours later with a quip before showing her a real room, or come in less than a day later and demand that she leave. She left Belle to the care of cruel guards and the sounds of rats and dripping water, kept alive and taunted that she would be used against Rumpelstiltskin, asked over and over if she had kissed him.

 

She always said no, but at night she dreamed of that kiss. It was a curse, and it was a curse she could break. In the Queen's dungeon she'd had dreams of him rescuing her. Belle stumbled along the sidewalk, remembering those nights she spent huddled against a stone wall imagining how Rumpelstiltskin would rescue her. Her mind spun with the images and thoughts, a headache settling between her eyes.

 

In her darkest moments she had dreamed of how he would kill the Queen: with magic, with his own two hands, with her help. The dreams always left her hurting and confused. Never before had she ever wished hate or injury, or especially death on anyone. She'd seen too many lives and families torn apart in war. She'd vowed when she had been young to never, never wish the kind of pain and suffering that death brought.

 

But in her darkest moments in that dungeon, she did.

 

It was why she asked him to promise not to kill the queen. If he promised, then she couldn't be tempted to ask him. She couldn't be tempted to be happy when she died. If the woman lived, she could feel proud that she'd overcome the desire to seek revenge.

 

Belle lived in fear of the moment that Regina died and she was happy about it.

 

She turned a corner, down a side street and to a park she'd seen. Everything around her was odd and confusing. There were hulking metal boxes on wheels and long things that looked like strings but were hanging from trees with no branches. Nothing felt familiar, nothing felt safe.

 

Rumpelstiltskin had felt safe.

 

He hadn't lied, not really. She should have known that he would use words, that he would make a deal, that he would find a way to take revenge. Something in the idea that he'd want to take revenge for her made her feel warm and loved, but she pushed it down harshly. She'd seen men fall into the abyss of hate, she'd seen her father's soldiers turn cold and cruel during the war, she'd seen loss turn the sweetest wives into hateful, spiteful beings. She rejected it, rejected the hate, with every little bit of courage she had left.

 

She would not start down that road, she would not.

 

Belle stumbled over the sand and grass of the small playground, rubbing her hands up and down her arms against the wind. She could have stayed in the shop. Yelled at him. Screamed at him. Hell, she could have just turned around and grabbed her shabby coat, but she'd simply left. She'd walked away and at least alone she could try to sort though her thoughts. Back in the corner there was a play set with a small treehouse. It took a little bit of doing, especially in her heels, but she managed to get in, curling into a small ball in a corner and shielding herself from the wind in the tiny empty room.

 

He had tried. He'd even said he was sorry. There were flickers, she realized, as she played every second over and over in her mind, of him trying. He was a man who made wrong decisions. That hadn't changed. But oh, how she had hoped. When she saw that human face and the limp and those beautiful, beautiful brown eyes, oh how she had hoped that he could show her that there was no darkness in his soul. She had wanted to believe, if only for a second, that because there was no outward curse, the inward curse was gone as well.

 

He crushed that hope so easily, so quickly. It still hurt like a palpable pain. It was her own delusion shattering, however. He was right, in the hour that they'd been together he'd done nothing, nothing to make her believe he was a different person in any way. Yes, he'd promised not to kill Regina, and just as she should have expected, he kept to the very word of that deal, it's intent meaningless. Her dress, her shoes... he'd always provided for her in the Dark Castle, had never refused a request for anything needed or wanted, and she shouldn't have expected differently here.

 

Even his kiss, that beautiful, sweet, desperate kiss as he called her darling and sweetheart, it had been building. It had been a part of him, of them, for as long as they'd been together, and the final realization of it as their lips pressed tightly togehter was more than she'd ever imagined in that cursed Queen's dungeon. The feel of his lips on hers, his body holding her, the bump of his nose on her cheek and his arm around her shoulder... She felt it, in the moment: true love. She felt every moment they'd had and every moment they were still to face.

 

True Love, she had been told, was never easy. It had to be fought for and wanted. It had to be won and cherished.

 

Belle was never one to back down from a fight.

 

The wind died down and she slipped from her treehouse carefully, tugging her skirt down her hips when she landed in the sandy soil. Her dress was short and tight and not nearly anything she would have worn before, but Rum's eyes when he'd seen her... she had so much to learn about this world, and oh how she wanted to learn it by his side.

 

His love would have to be won, deserved, just as her love would be. Belle would start by going back. She'd left without any words to her intent. She knew he was lonely, knew he feared loss. She would not let him worry about her for long. She knew that was what he was doing: worrying about her. But he'd have to prove himself. He'd have to fight for her, just like she was fighting for him.

 

She wobbled and tripped until she found the pavement again, turning in a circle and looking for her way. She stopped dead, staring at a building draped in ivy with flowers in it's dark windows.

 

Something about it called to her. There was a niggling of a memory that wouldn't surface, a feeling, an emotion... the same one that she'd followed through the town to find Rum when she'd first gotten out, now she let it lead her to the storefront.

 

It was locked, the door wouldn't budge and the lights were off, but it made her feel... home. Something about the flowers, the rows and rows and...

 

...and it was home. The way the flowers were arranged truly was familiar, it was how they were arranged in her father's garden. That garden had been his pride and joy, and she'd spent hours in it as a child. The peonies followed by tiger lilies right next to the daises but behind the blue belles. Flower for flower, it was the exact layout of the garden. She looked across the windows, a tiny sign in the front making her heart skip a beat. Moe French. She felt it, deep in her bones, that he was her father. Her beloved Papa. She hadn't the strength to hope, but hope she did.

 

She turned away from the storefront with a shaky breath. This world, this place... she didn't understand it, didn't like it, but she had to face it. She had wanted adventure, this was her chance. What greater adventure than to explore this new world, to see it and learn it and find a way to be with the man she loved and her father?

 

Step by determined step, she followed the feeling in her gut back to Rum's shop. Belle would do the brave thing and hopefully, just as it always had, bravery would follow. Rum would want her back, and she would go, but she would not let herself be lied to and used. He had to give her something, show her something, prove to her that he was going to fight for True Love just as much as she was, otherwise she could find her own way. She'd done worse than sleep in a tree house for a night if need be, and she could find her father in the morning if she couldn't stay with Rum tonight.

 

But above all, Belle hoped he would prove her right. She hoped that there would be something, anything, to show her by actions and not his twisted, toyed with words that he cared. She needed to know that he cared about her, and then they could move forward.

 

She stopped just outside the Pawn Shop, her hand hovering at the door knob. She wouldn't lie to herself anymore and she wouldn't lie to him. There was darkness in him, and she had to accept that, or they would never move past it.

 

Belle took a deep breath and turned the knob, a tiny bell twinkling a ring above her head.  


	3. Stay

 

  1. Stay




 

Rum pulled away from Belle's touch, her hands dropping to her sides as he turned, putting the cup down where she'd taken it from. “My darling, don't you see? I'll only hurt you.”

 

Her heels clicked on the floor as she stepped up behind him, close but not touching. “And I'll hurt you.” She put her hand on his shoulder, turning him so he could look at her through the corner of his eye. “We had something true that day in the castle. You can't deny that. True Love... I was always taught it had to be fought for, it had to be won. Maybe... maybe it's not always won with a sword in a dragon.”

 

He looked at her, wonder in his eyes. “I believe, in that metaphor, I'm the dragon.”

 

Belle pressed her lips together and her forehead wrinkled tightly, she stepped in front of him with a heavy sigh. “Do you love me? You saved that cup and you thought I was dead. Right here, right now, I'm alive. We have a chance at this. I'm asking for the truth. Do. You. Love. Me?”

 

A gasp just this side of a sob escaped his lips as he looked away. “Yes.” He pulled her close, pressing his forehead to hers with a deep desperation filtering through every inch of his embrace. “It's why you must leave. I always hurt those I love. Leave me now before I can hurt you more.”

 

Belle grasped his jaw with both hands, her nose slipping against the side of his as he held her tight. “No!” Her voice trembled, tears on the verge making her loud, but she couldn't contain it. “I love you, Rumpelstiltskin. You get one chance at True Love in your life. I know you are mine. I will not walk away from it!”

 

His head fell to her shoulder, a sound nearly like whimpering as he buried his face in her neck. “How, love? How do I fight myself for you?”

 

She wrapped her arms around him tightly, holding on like she could never let go. “Be the man I know is in there. Be the man who lost his son and saved his things. Be the man who told me to go get straw from town knowing he was setting me free. Be the man I know you wish to be. Make those choices. Don't make the easy, dark choices. Don't let the darkness rule your soul.”

 

He lifted his head, burying his nose in her hair. “I've been dark for so long, the power of it, I don't know how to fight it.”

 

Belle pulled away, tipping her head to look into his eyes. “Do you want to be that man?” she asked softly, her eyes gentle as he struggled to keep himself together in her arms.

 

“From the moment I took the curse,” he whispered back. “I had such plans for the power, but it had other plans for me.” He stroked her cheek with the back of his knuckles, marveling at her. “I was going to do so much good, Belle.”

 

“Will you try?” she whispered, holding his gaze. “Will you try to be that man?”

 

“For you I would do anything.” He said, leaning forward, but she pulled away, stopping him with a hand on his cheek.

 

“No,” Belle bit out harshly. “Not for me. For you. Be that man because you want to be better, not because I'm asking you to.” She set her jaw tight, intent on his eyes, watching closely as she waited for him to understand what she was telling him.

 

“I will,” he muttered, leaning forward to capture her lips. He murmured it over and over, taking sipping kisses as he tangled his hands in her hair. Her hand slipped to the nape of his neck as the passion built between them.The kiss was as much a promise as any of their words: it was strong and desperate and whole and finally, finally full of hope.  


	4. Home

 

  1. Home




 

The ride home had been quiet: she was still nervous about the things in this world she didn't understand and the big box on wheels that roared to life was one of them. He didn't comment on it, though, as she tried to fumble through the things she didn't know. He showed her what she needed to know, and didn't talk down to her, and when they sat the red lights he held her hand briefly, squeezing before he let go to grasp the wheel again.

 

She was cold though, goosebumps rising on her arms in the wind, even though she tried not to let him see. He hustled her into the back of his home, in the front door and quickly through the hallway to his study, and slipped his suit coat over her shoulders while he set about starting a fire in the fireplace. She longed to roam and explore, to look at every little trinket and find the ones she remembered, but she couldn't quite bring herself to move from the couch. She clutched the jacket around her as she watched him play with logs and pokers, carefully crouched in front of her. “What happened to your knee?”

 

He looked over his shoulder, a sad smile on his lips as he thought for a moment. She could almost see how hard he was thinking, and it unnerved her for just a moment. His face softened, his eyes warm and bright and she knew she'd have to learn his new expressions quickly, learn what he looked like just before he lied and just before he was going to let cruel things slip from his lips. She'd known his mannerisms in the old world, now it seemed she had new ones to learn. “One of many stories, my dear, that are not for tonight.”

 

The fire caught, flickering to life and he watched it for a moment. She could tell her was raw and open, still just a bit off balance from all that had happened tonight, just as she was. She'd much rather this awkwardness than the self-assured mask and cruelty he'd worn only a few hours ago. He stood and limped over, sitting a prim few inches away.

 

Belle would have none of it, she scooted closer and snuggled into his side immediately, her chilled hands finding his and clasping tightly. He licked his lips, staring only at the fire. “I have a... guest bedroom, if you like.”

 

Belle rested her head on his shoulder. “I would, for now.” Her voice was quiet and dreamy. “Things are... very different here, aren't they?”

 

He leaned back, taking her with him into the soft creak of the sofa. He reached out and lifted her legs across his, rubbing his palms quickly over her calves to bring warmth to them and flatten out the goosebumps. “Yes, I suppose so. The curse has supplemented out memories, things feel just as normal as they did at home, but yes, I suppose things are very different.”

 

She sighed, staring at his hand as it worked over her legs in a calm, warm manner. It was strange to her, and her first thought was that it was inappropriate and wrong and she should have hid her legs in shame, but he was from her world, her time, and yet he was comfortable with it. It made her head spin. “I... I don't think I have those memories.”

 

“What do you mean, love?” he asked, his eyebrows knitting together as he looked at her, his hand slowing as the heat from the fire started to warm her legs.

 

Belle shrugged and looked to the flames, her hands all but hidden in his sleeves as she twisted her fingers. “These things... they all seem just like a... a flicker of memory that isn't there. They spark something, but it's not enough. It's like deja vu, I feel like I know it, but I don't. It's very... unsettling.”

 

He gently brushed a lock of hair away from her face. “I wish you hadn't gone out by yourself. I was so worried. I thought.. I thought perhaps something like this was happening and I... I worried.”

 

Belle gave him a soft, shy smile as she laughed. “I know, it's why I came back.” She sighed, tugging her skirt farther down her legs, frustrated at how it slid up each time she moved.

 

His hand fell over hers, stopping her struggle with her skirt. “The dress... not to your liking?” His voice was soft, dry. It was like their first few awkward encounters in the Dark Castle when they were more than master and servant but less than the near friends that they ended up being. They were going to have to learn all over again how to be around one another, how to live with one another, how to deal with one another, but she knew it would be worth it.

 

She grasped his fingers tightly in hers, squeezing in her lap. “It's lovely, but, like I said... things are a bit... different here.” A blush rose up her cheeks and she stammered with embarrassment. “In... in in our old world, my chemise covered more than this.” She giggled from sheer embarrassment, turning away and biting her lip.

 

“I can get you longer dresses, or pants.” He gently coaxed her face back to his, smiling at the bright red blush in her cheek. “Anything you wish.”

 

“I'm just not... used to it, is all.” She chewed on her bottom lip for a second, then leaned in and kissed him softly. “Whatever you think is best. You always did have the better fashion sense of the two of us.” She pressed her lips against his again softly before she pulled back. “Besides, I have no idea what's acceptable here yet, and I trust you.”

 

He ran his fingers over her cheek, smiling sadly. “I'd drape you in gold, love. The softest silks. The richest fabrics I could fine. Though, for the moment, I think vintage and available will have to do.”

 

Belle nodded, swallowing a giggle as she nuzzled into his hand. He leaned forward, bumping her nose with his and laughing nervously as he approached again, this time finding her lips easily. Their kiss was soft, unhurried, but with the desperation lost it was also just a touch awkward. The tilt of her head twisted her neck and when she tried to move they bumped noses and foreheads.

 

His hand nestled nicely at the base of her skull, but the other shook at the hem of her skirt, nervously alternating between sitting on her leg and grasping ineffectually at her hip. Her hands sat on his shoulders, fisting in his shirt, longing to move but not sure what to do. She could feel him shaking, with nervousness or want she wasn't sure. She knew there was desire coursing though her, knew it by the way their tongues mostly melded tightly and nicely, but they fumbled and bumped and it wasn't anything like she thought it would be from the novels she'd read. In fact, her books had never much gotten past those wonderful first kisses, and though she and Rumpelstiltskin had shared those already, this was beyond what she was prepared for.

 

She didn't know what to expect. Even her memories of her real life didn't help much. Her ladies in waiting had only ever giggled when talking about the marriage bed with her, not one had any real advice to offer when she'd gone to them when she'd been engaged to Gaston. Her father had sputtered some nonsense about bees and flowers, and Gaston had never done much more than kiss her hand.

 

She knew what her body told her to do, what it wanted to do, but every fiber of her being told her that it couldn't be right. It couldn't be proper or lady like, even in this world of skimpy clothing, to touch him and feel him and... and... take him the way she wanted.

 

She pushed at his shoulder, pulling away and trying not to feel horrible as she watched him try to hide his emotions. “I- I...” She stammered again, trying at once to catch her breath and find a way to explain all she was feeling. She shuttered and let her tongue try to wet her suddenly dry mouth. “I need some time. Before we...” She shrugged, flopping a hand between them ineffectually before pulling it to her chest. “Before we go much further. I'll just... I need some time.”

 

She could swear he sighed in relief. “Anything, my dear.” He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Time would be good for both of us, I think.” He looked away from her, his tongue running over his slightly swollen lips. “I haven't... Not since my wife. I spent centuries alone as the Dark One. You're... since then.” He could't quite complete the sentence, couldn't quite say what she knew he meant.

 

She tried to help, but her words came out just as choked and awkward. “You... you'll be mine.”

 

He smiled at her, laughing at the way they could barely speak about these things despite all that had happened between them. She chuckled, tipping her head into his shoulder. “Oh my. Look at the pair of us.”

 

He stroked his hand down her hair, cradling her close. “Yes, look at us. At least there is an 'us' to speak of, though.” he kissed her forehead. “Just tell me when you wish to go to bed, the extra room is just upstairs.”

 

She loosened the knot of his tie, playing with it as she relaxed against him. “Can we just, maybe, perhaps... lay here? Together? I'm afraid I'll fall asleep and wake up and it will all be a dream and I don't want to wake up tonight alone and scared and somewhere I don't know where I am.”

 

He clutched her close, his hand resting possessively just above her knee. “I have a large bed, my dear. You could stay with me and nothing has to happen...” He let the sentence flutter away from him, trying to make it sound more of an invitation than a hope, but she heard it all the same.

 

She hugged him the best she could, though it was woefully inadequate with the way they were sitting. The idea appealed to her, but it also made her stomach fill with nerves in a way she wasn't used to. “I... I'm not saying no for any other reason than the fact that I've been alone for so long, I'm going to need my space. I'm going to need a place to call mine just... just until I get my feet under me. A place that I can go and close the door and just... sit if I need to.” She sniffed, nuzzling into his neck. I love this, and I love you, and I need this right now, but later? Later I'll need my own space.”

 

He was quiet for almost too long, her heart starting to pound when he finally spoke again. “If you want, we could find you a place of your own. A room at Granny's perhaps. I've never much looked at the real-estate here but-”

 

She cut him off by shaking her head and holding tight. “Oh no, I never want to be completely alone like I was again. But I'll need a room of my own, if you, if you don't mind.”

 

She could feel his smile as his cheek moved against her forehead. “I don't mind at all, dearie.” He pressed her back to sit up. “Now, I believe you wanted to lie for a bit, and you're not quite warm enough for my liking.” He swung her legs up and over the edge, standing and limping to a small cabinet. From inside he pulled an old looking quilt, something that was from their old world obviously, but she couldn't quite place it. He tossed it over the back of the couch before he bent down, pulling the shoes from her feet and sending a shover up her legs as the cold air hit her toes. He swung her legs up on the couch and pushed her towards the back cushions, sitting next to her and coaxing her to lay on his chest. She smiled, snuggling into him and digging his toes into the cushions as he draped the quilt over them. “What do you think, love? Will this do?”

 

Belle sighed, snuggling into his side. “Yes, yes it will.”

 

He held her close, the quilt warming quickly in the firelight. “Anything you need, Belle, you just say the word.”

 

She sighed happily, her hand resting over his heart, right next to her cheek. “Nothing. Right now, I need nothing.”

 


End file.
